


Shadows In The Trees

by Loeka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elf Culture & Customs, Elves Being Very Elfy, F/M, Tree Hippies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loeka/pseuds/Loeka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is without a doubt that had the Tevinter Imperium not attacked when it did, the Dales would have ceased to exist with that First Exalted March. But the fact remains that they did attack, and the Dales, though forever crippled, survived. And continues to do so to this very day.</p><p>– Excerpt from “Orlais And Her Enemies Throughout History” by sister Magritte</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Gray stones capturing thousand of voices, gleaming metal made bright by flickering flames. People as far as the eye could see, invisible borders twisting like the ocean.

Ellana Ari of Clan Lavellan, looked down from the rafters and was impressed. It was as if a meadow full of vivid flowers danced in the wind. Except the “flowers” were humans –with a few rare exceptions– and their dancing was caused by shifting alliances. Still, it was an exceptional sight and she was glad for the chance to observe this, grateful for this amazing start as a Shadow.

Though she had to admit, the complete lack of sky was a little unnerving, walls seemingly pressing in on her, no matter their splendor. And they were splendid, every inch carved in exquisite ways, every stone a story, the weight off time only adding to their magnificence. It was a beauty impossible to find in the Dales.

Yet after four days, she longed for open skies, for the freedom to run that human buildings always sought to suppress. But her elder had given her an assignment, and Ellana would not fail him. She would watch the different factions, observe their behavior, try to puzzle out their motivations. It was not easy, but she was determined.

Her eyes tracked the winding path of a female priest, watching as she stopped to speak with one of the mages. Even without those brightly colored robes, Ellana could have never mistaken him for anything else, his mana swirling around him chaotically. Circle mages, always so bewilderingly open. It was no wonder the bare-faced feared them so much. Still, they did not deserve to be locked up, bound and caged.

No one deserved that.

Honestly, she did not understand why so many humans were surprised by this rebellion. Everyone knew a cornered animal would eventually lash out. The only surprise was that it had taken so many ages.

Then again, circle mages were taught to fear themselves just as much as the outside world. Ellana could not truly understand such attitude, but she had encountered it often enough on her Long Walk.

The human priest concluded her talk with the mage, leaving him standing behind with a smile and a smug note woven through his aura. Ellana did not know what had been spoken between them, but clearly the mage believed it to be in his advantage. Yet Ellana had observed that particular priest for a while, and she had seen this exact scene repeated with templars and mages alike. Yesterday she had even managed to overhear some of the priest's conversations, and the woman made empty promises to both sides, assuring the templars the mages would be caged once more, and in the same breath promising freedom to the mages. Ellana wondered at her angle, but figured she would not be able to puzzle it out before the Conclave started.

But she could observe. And she did so. With great pleasure.

Because it was all so very _fascinating_. And right below her was a prime example of why. A group of templars was throwing hateful and righteously indignant glances at a group of mages standing a healthy distance away. Yet one of the templar's strange auras was filled not with hate or anger or righteousness, but with longing. With sorrow. His eyes never left the small figure of one of the female magicians. And judging from the quick glances she kept sending back, her own aura full of yearning, the feelings were not one-sided.

Ellana sighed. It was scenes such as this that reminded her that for all their faults and cruelty, humans were just people in the end. And this war, all this chaos and destruction, was caused not by good or evil, but by people. People making terrible decision, but people nonetheless.

It was... uncomfortable to acknowledge that the Dalish possessed the capacity to make the same mistakes which had led to this moment in time.

Still, not matter the why, the fact remained that the Dalish were not so foolish as to cage their own people. Especially not the part that could set you on fire with their mind, that was simply asking for trouble.

“Deep thoughts youngling?”

A sound that was definitely not a squeak escaped her. Twisting around, she glared at Mahanon's smug face, far too close for comfort, his aura blending with his surroundings perfectly. How long had he been there?

“Careful youngling, a Shadow should always be aware of their surroundings.” he teased, making Ellana’s eyes narrow.

“For your information, I am very aware. I just chose to ignore you.” A lie which made Mahanon snort in response.

“Of course youngling. And that is why you nearly fell down like a startled rabbit.”

Ellana ignored the truth of his words.

“Why do you keep calling me youngling? You are only three years older, and you are most certainly not wise.” she returned instead.

“Such harsh words youngling! I am hurt.” Mahanon clutched at his heart, expression comically exaggerated, and Ellana felt her lips twitch in spite of herself.

“Besides.” he continued with a twinkle in his green eyes, Mythal's Writings enhancing their mischievousness. “You are but an apprentice, while I am a fully fledged Shadow.” His preening made her snort.

“A Shadow of the first degree, pale and fleeting.” she shot back dryly.

“But that is still higher than a Shadow of no degree. Fear not youngling, head my advice and you too will one day become one with darkness.” his pompous answer made Ellana laugh softly, taking care not to attract attention from the people below.

“Your are full of Halla dung Mahanon.” she told him fondly.

“It is a gift.” he quipped back without any hesitation. “But truly, you seem distracted Ellana. Are you alright?” And there was genuine concern in that question. Ellana sighed.

“I am simply tired of these stone walls, it is of no concern.” she said. Her answer made Mahanon frown.

“Have you not hunted these last days?” he asked.

“No, Harellan has been sharing her kills. She is out right now.” she added as Mahanon's eyes searched out her guardian below on reflex.

“It is not good to be uprooted for so long Ellana.” His voice and expression were honestly scolding, and he even stopped blending for a moment to send a sharp flare of disapproval her way.

There _might_ be a reason for that.

“I know. But it is only a few more hours, I shall hunt this evening.” she said. Immediately Mahanon's expression turned incredulous, enhanced by his Writings to a stunning degree.

“This evening we shall be expected to discuss the official start of the Conclave and it's initial reactions. We will not be permitted to hunt.”

At her stubborn silence, his voice turned sharp.

“We will also be expected to give our complete focus.”

Guilt flared up. She knew that, she did. It was just...

“It is so interesting Mahanon!” she burst out. “There are so many different opinions, so many different beliefs! Like that priest over there.” She pointed at one of the younger women, a pretty smile on her face as she talked to a truly enormous templar, his expression harsh and cold. “She shows such sweetness, yet her words are bitter poison, dripped in deceptive honey as she so very kindly argues for the death of all mages. As though it would be the most merciful thing to do. Yet the templar she is trying to convince believes the mages are right, that they deserve freedom, family and safety. That the Chantry was wrong to lock them up, to mistreat them simply out of fear. He believes his Order should be like our Hunters, not–” A chuckle interrupted her excited ramblings, Mahanon's expression full of gentle amusement.

“I _am_ a Shadow youngling, I watch for these same things as well.” The term was without teasing this time, the genuine affection making a blush rise to her cheeks.

“I know.” she mumbled, embarrassment making her avert her eyes. “And I know I should have hunted yesterday. But it is too late now.” Hearing her own voice say it out loud truly drove home the foolishness of her behavior. She’d already noticed it was becoming harder to keep in control of her aura and mana.

As if to underline that thought, a single spark of static jumped from her shoulder. At Mahanon's raised brow, she only managed a sheepish smile. A pained sigh seemingly escaped him, belied by the gleam still present in his green eyes.

“Very well. It seems I have no choice but to command you to go observe the humans still present at the first bridge.” he stated firmly. Ellana froze. She gave him a hesitant look.

“But my orders were–”

“And I am giving you new ones. This is very important after all. I have not seen the Divine's Left or Right Hand here yet, and their opinion will carry great weight. Now, maybe they are with their Divine, but maybe they are still outside. So you are to look for them on your way to the Pertinent's Crossing.” he ordered, keeping his expression stern, his eyes still twinkling. Ellana could only stare in silence. Mahanon smiled peacefully, once more halting his blending to project a brief note of pure tranquillity.

“I expect you to be thorough in your search.”

Ellana slowly started grinning.

“I suppose that as an apprentice, I cannot refuse the commands of a deeper Shadow.” she said slowly.

“No you cannot.” Mahanon confirmed, still smiling peacefully. Warmth coursed through her, her grin turning into a soft smile.

“Thank you Mahanon.” she said, halting her own blending to send him her true gratitude. Mahanon only waved a hand casually in return, his own smile turning genuine.

“Go.” he urged her, and she needed no more encouragement. Aura already beginning to sing in anticipation, she quickly moved across the rafters, scaling down, her landing invoking a startled scream from an old mage. Giving him a fierce grin, she blended into the shadows before he could recover, snickering at his look of bewilderment, making her way towards freedom on soundless feet.

She could almost taste the wind, hear the plants sing already. As she slipped into a darkened corridor, Ellana felt content. The open air was exactly what she needed. It would be good to ground herself a little before the Conclave truly began.

She would need all her strength for this.

* * *

 

Codex: History Of The Dales 

When Orlais declared war on the Dales in 2:10, following the atrocities committed in the town of Red Crossing, they envisioned a quick and decisive victory. The elves, for all that they had their own country for over three ages, were at the time still seen as helpless ex-slaves, and it was expected they would easily fall under the might of the Orlesian Empire.

This was not so.

Surprising all, they not only repelled the Orlesian forces, but retaliated with a swift and ruthless counteroffensive. Their Emerald Knights, infamous till this very day, attacked the town of Montsimmard and utterly destroyed it, before pushing their advance towards Val Royeux itself. The military floundered in the face of this brutal offensive, caught off guard by both the skill and number of the elven army.

It is important to note that, though caught off guard, the Orlesian army would have easily achieved victory, if not for one important fact.

The elves freely abused magic.

Men burned alive in their armor, frozen limbs shattered in a thousand pieces, the very ground swallowing entire legions. Nothing was sacred to these barbarians. And it was their inhuman brutality which allowed them to hold their borders, even in the face of overwhelming superiority.

Records of that time describe the utter devastation caused, and although many believe it was the danger to Val Royeaux which caused the Chantry to take action, it was this flagrant disrespect towards the Maker's will which convinced Divine Renata I to declare an Exalted March on the Dales, named after Holy Andraste's own righteous March against Ancient Tevinter.

And for a while, it seemed the righteous would achieve victory, the templars capable of subduing the elves beast like use of magic. Yet despite this, the elves' offensive against Orlais did not stop, and in 2:14 the barbarian Knights even managed to breech Val Royeaux itself, killing countless innocents and destroying priceless artifacts and buildings.

It is only by the Maker's grace both templars and chevaliers pushed the elves back further inlands so swiftly, forcing them to retreat to their borders before they destroyed the entire city.

Eventually they managed to drive the elves back to Halamshiral, the only city ever build by elven hands. And though the elves continued to fight with ferocity and desperation, they could not stop the Holy March upon their capital.

In 2:20 the Orlesian Empire broke through their defenses, utterly crushing the last of the elven resistance. Victory was achieved.

Unfortunately, it was then the Tevinter Emperium attempted to reconquer Nevarra, an act of war which caught the entire world off guard, for the Imperium had not shown overt signs of aggression since the formation of our Empire. The Orlesian army, templars and chevaliers alike, scrambled to face this new threat. Abandoning their March on the Dales, they instead turned their attention towards Nevara, regrouping in all haste to aid their allies.

While history has shown this would have dire consequences, one must keep in mind that at the time, this was deemed the wisest course of action. And with good reason. Of all human nations, it was only Nevarra whom had answered the call of the Orlesians when they called for that First Exalted March, most of their templars heading the Maker's will.

It left Nevarra open to invasion. When Tevinter started it's offensive, there was virtually no opposition.

Fearing both for their allies, and for the future of Orlais and the Chantry itself, both Orlais and the Chantry focused their attention on this grave and immediate danger. As the elves were judged to be defeated, their armies destroyed and their only city razed to the ground, the Empire recalled all troops, confident they would be able to reform the surviving Dalish after this more immediate threat was dealt with.

This was the right course of action. It was the only course of action, the only way to avert disaster from befalling both Orlais and the Chantry. Had action not been taken, the Imperium would have certainly reconquered Nevarra, and the world today would have been a very different one indeed.

But it is also true this decision would have unexpected and far reaching consequences.

It is without a doubt that had the Tevinter Imperium not attacked when it did, the Dales would have ceased to exist with that First Exalted March. But the fact remains that they did attack, and the Dales, though forever crippled, survived. And continues to do so to this very day.

– Excerpt from “Orlais And Her Enemies Throughout History” by sister Magritte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was born from the question: what if the Dales hadn't fallen?


	2. Madness

As she led the elf towards the forward camp, Cassandra reflected on her assumption the Dalish was responsible for the destruction of the Conclave.

It had seemed so obvious, so easy. The Dales had a history of violence with the Chantry, stretching back near as far as both their formations. Of course the elves would sabotage the possibility of peace. Truly, she and Leliana had even prepared for it, had taken every precaution when the Dales had send word to– when they had send word they wished to send a delegation to the Conclave. 

Because the Dalish despised the Chantry, and the Templar Order in particular, with a burning passion.

Yet the confusion the young Dalish had shown, the disbelief and grief for those lost, made Cassandra feel doubt. Was she simply another victim? But then, how had she survived? More importantly, how had she  _ walked out of the Fade? _

Had multiple witnesses not come forward, Cassandra would have never believed it. It was impossible.

Yet this elf had done so. And apparently did not remember any of it. Cassandra did not know whether to believe that. But either this elf was an exceptional liar, still a very real possibility, or she was telling the truth. And if she was telling the truth, that only raised further questions.

Staring at the back of those dark braids, Cassandra willed to elf to explain, to answer the questions rattling around her head, to have the world make sense again.

To give her an enemy, someone to blame for–

Grief, sharp and intense, stabbed through her heart. She pushed it down, focusing on the immediate problems. She could not afford to be overwhelmed by sorrow.

And it was not hard to distract herself. The Breach demanded attention, the sickly green glow regularly forcing her eyes upwards before she could control the urge. Yet at the same time, it was impossible to stare longer than a moment at its heart. Where clouds, air, the very sky itself disappeared in an indescribable vortex of power that set her every nerve alight, even at this distance. It was disturbing, it was  _ wrong _ , on such a profound level it was almost impossible to think beyond the sensation, to focus on something other than the present.

It made it easy not to dwell on the loss, the grief that would otherwise consume her.

As if in response to her thoughts, the Breach  _ pulsed _ , her eyes snapping upwards on instinct. And Cassandra saw,  _ felt _ , a wave of  _ something  _ scattering already turbulent clouds, followed immediately by a flash of what wasn’t truly lightning. And by an agonized scream. Cassandra snapped her gaze towards the elf, just in time to see her fall to her knees, the Dalish desperately clutching at her scarred hand, the Mark’s eerie light beating in time with the Breach.

Indecision made her freeze, uncertain of what she should do. What she could do. In the end, she simply watched as the elf clenched her teeth, her eyes shut and face twisted in agony. Vivid lines were illuminated in flashes, the pulsing Mark making the elf’s soft white facial markings reflect the near same sickly green light. Near, because the color did not look  _ wrong _ .

But those bright, feral lines turned the elf's expression of pain into something sharper, more dangerous. Something wild and savage.

Seeing her like this made it easy to condemn her, to feel certain of her guilt, to be  _ angry _ .

Then the Breach calmed, as did the disturbing glow of the Mark. And those markings became gentle once more, a soft white color, barely visible. That savage visage transformed into exhaustion, agony visible in every line. Cassandra stepped forward, putting her hand on the young woman's shoulders. Eyes full of muted pain met her own, their green color both too dull and too bright, skin washed out and pale, the elf looking so very young.

Seeing her like this, it was hard to not believe her innocent.

“The pulses are coming faster now.” It was not a comfort, only an explanation. It was all Cassandra could offer.

The elf sighed, a deep, bone tired sound. Then she forced herself to stand, expression smoothing into something resembling calm. But her eyes continued to betray her, that same sense of exhausted agony still present.

Cassandra was impressed. Even more so when the elf began to walk once more, continuing up the path as though nothing had happened. Cassandra followed, speeding up slightly so that she was beside the young Dalish instead of behind, deciding to lower her guard a little. She still did not know whether the elf was innocent or not, but she was willing to give her a chance.

After all, she had yet to try to run.

“What do you know about the explosion?” The question caught Cassandra of guard, and she turned her vision towards the elf fully in order to gage the motivation behind that particular query. She was met with a gaze cat like in it's curiosity, made even worse by the sickly pallor of her skin. Elves had such large eyes, and while usually the gleam they held was subtle, this elf’s condition made them shine in what seemed like fever. Though Cassandra knew the elf did not suffer from that, a healer having inspected her when she’d first started showing signs of waking.

“Nothing.” Cassandra admitted, the truth bitter on her tongue. “We only know it destroyed the entire Temple of Sacred Ashes and tore the sky apart.”

“So it was a single explosion?” It was an odd question and it made Cassandra pause. Until she realized that if the elf truly did not remember she would also have forgotten...

Forgotten the unholy  _ noise _ , the indescribable sound of the sky itself tearing, being blinded by green that was not green, the color wrong in ways impossible to describe. The  _ sensation  _ of it, the way it had lit her  _ every  _ nerve alight, a blazing  _ sun _ .

And the devastation, the Maker forsaken  _ sight _ , the realization of what was  _ lost _ –

Cassandra wrenched herself to the present. There was no time to grieve.

“I was a singular explosion. It created the Breach at the same time it wiped out the entire Temple grounds.” At her brutally short explanation the elf's breath hitched, her gait faltering.

“When?” Her voice was soft, subdued. As if she did not truly wish to know. Cassandra allowed herself to close her eyes briefly.

“Three days ago. It happened shortly before–” She couldn't stop her breath from hitching. “Before Most Holy was to address the people for the first time.” It had been pure chance Cassandra had not been present, both herself and Leliana gathering the last of the stragglers not yet present. If she had been there, if she had been _ with _ Most Holy, could she have–

“How did I survive the blast?” The elf's question helped her focus. Because the answer was impossible.

“I do not know. But the soldiers who found you said you... stepped out of the Fade, then fell unconscious.”

The elf came to an abrupt halt, incredulous eyes searching Cassandra's own.

“Fenehdis asla! I walked out of _the Beyond?_ _Physically?_ ” her voice was high pitched, full of disbelief, jaw slack, expression stunned.

“That is what people claim to have seen.” Cassandra answered carefully, her own uncertainty preventing her from giving a more decisive answer.

Gaping in astonishment, the young elf remained silent, seemingly overwhelmed by this revelation. It made Cassandra more inclined to believe her. And yet...

“You truly do not remember?” Her question made the elf snap her jaw shut, green eyes turning wary once more.

“I told you I do not.” The elf's voice was defensive, her posture even more so. But there was still that sense of shock and disbelief.

And pain.

“Nothing?” Cassandra could not help but press this. In response, the elf bared her teeth, the expression more intimidating than expected, making Cassandra tense sharply once more.

“Nothing beyond running and the woman reaching out to me, as I have already told you shems.” Cassandra ignored the insult, instead looking for any sign of deceit. And finding none.

“Is that truly  _ all _ you remember?” she continued to press.

A flicker in those unnerving bright eyes, a swift glance towards the Mark on her hand.

“There  _ is _ something else.” Cassandra felt triumphant, it was the first sign the elf was lying. Which meant she could still be responsible.

Cassandra  _ needed _ an enemy to blame.

But the Dalish simply shut her eyes, clenching her scarred hand into a fist.

“Pain.” It was a whisper, so low Cassandra almost did not hear it at all. “I remember pain.”

The elf did not elaborate. She did not need to.

And Cassandra was not so cruel as to push on this, had no wish to cause pain for the sake of pain.

But she also had to know.

“If you do not remember the explosion, then what do you recall? From before that.” she elaborated as the elf gave her another hostile and defensive look.

“I was about to step out for a breath of fresh air, your stone walls were too oppressing. I recall moving down the corridors on my way out. Then nothing.” It was an unsatisfactory answer.

It sounded like the truth.

It was no different than the circumstances which had saved Cullen, Leliana and Cassandra herself. 

“Did... did no one else of my delegation survive?” the elf hesitantly asked, voice low. The Dalish was carefully not looking towards her, trying so very hard not to hope, yet doing so anyway.

“...No. They did not.” Her soft answer made the desperately smothered hope in green eyes die in horrified disbelief, a pained sound escaping, eyes closing, tears clinging to lashes.

It made Cassandra realize that the elf had lost people as well.

They continued on in silence.

* * *

 

Ellana tried to focus only on the physical pain burning her palm, but it was hard. Foreign power invaded her aura, insidious howling rattling through her mind, scattering any semblance of harmony, turning her mana vicious and frightening. She felt like a tree caught in a storm, bend to the point of breaking.

She was  _ desperate _ to destroy it, wanting to  _ claw _ at her hand, cut it off if necessary, make it bled  _ red _ instead of this  _ awful _ not-green. Risking a glance towards it, she quickly averted her eyes again, feeling a grimace grow. A thousand shades filled her palm, fresh grass mixed with clearest emerald bleeding into sickly poison coated like a bird's feathers...

It was the  _ concept  _ of the color green. And to see it outside the Beyond, on her  _ body _ , was  _ wrong _ . In ways she would never be able to describe.

Unfortunately, she could not escape it, not even by sight. Even avoiding gazing directly at the... wound in the sky, did not stop her from seeing the jagged streaks breaking the air almost as far as the eye could see, the concept of green shifting in ways that should not be possible.

And that was only her sight. But the way it  _ felt _ , the way it pulsed and twisted and  _ screamed _ . She could  _ feel _ the connection to that howling inside her mind, the foreign power clawing at her mana, every moment a struggle to focus, to not think about–

Creators, what was going on?

Ellana did not know, the howling inside of her making it impossible to think beyond the immediate present –to think about– every movement she made was a battle, every step forward a victory in which the foreign magic did not consume her. Even though it so dearly wanted to. Because it  _ wanted _ to. It was so very  _ hungry _ .

Ellana would  _ not  _ let it consume her, would  _ never _ let it. She was Dalish, and  _ never again would they submit _ .

And in response, the power  _ burned _ , biting, clawing at her resolve, searching for any sign of weakness. Ellana would give it  _ none _ .

She grit her teeth, ignoring the flare of her Writings, and  _ focussed _ . From the corner of her vision, she saw the Breach pulse, heard the dissonant sounds that mimicked thunder. And she saw the dark haired woman glance at her, brow creased in seeming concern as she clutched at her scarred hand. But the human stayed silent, and for that Ellana was grateful. She needed all her focus for this, barely able to remember to keep walking.

She would  _ never  _ let it win.

As they started crossing the next bridge, she finally felt the clawing at her mind calm down, returning to enraged howling once more, and she allowed herself to relax slightly.

Too soon.

The explosion of not-green in front of her was blinding, deafening, stone falling away beneath her feet, panicking, scrambling for purchase, reaching for mana to soften her fall–  _ screaming _ , losing all focus, agony breaking the half formed melody, mana  _ stolen _ , breath taken from her lungs as she hit the ground–  _ Pain _ , mind scattered, wounded sky dancing across her vision.

A low groan vaguely reached her ringing ears.

And then a shriek snapped her mind to the present, impossible not to recognize the sound. And fear it.

A spirit of Hunger.

Foreign curses reached her ears, and Ellana turned her head just in time to see the human stagger to her feet, her shield and sword coming up, aimed at the creature that  _ should not be here _ .

“Stay behind me!” The stern order was followed by the woman launching herself into battle, every movement full of power and brutal grace.

As the woman danced with death, Ellana forced herself upright, to ignore the stabbing hurt low on her back, the sharp pain in her shoulder. It was not easy, but she managed. Nothing was broken, only very badly battered and bruised. And struggling against the once more clawing power that was now even fiercer than before. 

She would  _ never  _ allow it to win!

She struggled to regain her breath, mind caught in the storm howling at her very being– a whisper of sound reached her– Ellana  _ threw _ herself to the side, razor claws slicing air where she had been but a moment before.

Piercing shrieks split the air, Ellana meeting a second spirit’s gaze, for an eternal moment caught in the bottomless voids that were its eyes. Then she reached for her mana, shaping lightning with the barest of thoughts–  _ screamed _ , the mark greedily devouring every drop of mana, reaching for more, reaching  _ inside of her _ .

Shutting her eyes – _ never _ loose sight of the enemy– drawing her mana to the deepest part of her soul, denying the mark–  _ rolling _ across the floor – _ pain _ ignore it  _ move _ – claws cleaving through the ice, Ellana opening her eyes, Hunger turning towards her  _ too fast _ Ellana had no weapons couldn't use mana couldn't defend she couldn't–

An enraged roar, impossible in its familiarity, a blur of dark gray forcing Hunger back, the spirit shrieking, claws coming up– gleaming white biting down, ripping at its throat, pulling, tearing– the spirit  _ shattered _ , fragments dusting the air. 

A triumphant howl. 

Ellana launched herself forward, ignored every pain, the alien power coursing through her, her fear, confusion and loss. She buried her fingers into coarse fur, inhaled the wild scent as familiar as her own. Trembling, she pulled her beloved closer, unable to let go, letting out a choked sound at the soft whine aimed towards her.

_ Harellan _ .

She was  _ alive _ , her beloved guardian was  _ alive _ , she was here, safe, unhurt.  _ Alive _ .

Harellan pressed even closer, Ellana tightening her embrace as her guardian let out soothing rumblings from deep within her chest, her aura gently tangling with her own.

Ellana did not know how long they stayed like that, but eventually she realized the seemingly meaningless sounds she heard were her own voice whispering promises of love and devotion, common tongue abandoned in her overwhelming joy. The knowledge made her let out a fragile laugh, lifting her head in order to see those beautiful blue eyes forever thought lost.

“Ma Harellan, ma'arlathlin, ma ira'asla.”

Wild, feral energy danced with her own, the very presence of her Harellan pushing the foreign power clawing at her mind further back.

Harellan leaned forward, her wet nose a sweet kiss across Ellana's cheek, soothing rumbles never halting, comfort and protection both. Ellana brought their foreheads together, ignored the human woman watching them with narrowed eyes.

Harellan was  _ alive _ .

For the first time since waking up, Ellana truly felt like everything would be alright.

* * *

 

“Seeker, are you sure Sparky over there is up for this?” Varric kept his voice low as he watched the elf with worry. She'd seemed normal the first few moments he'd seen her, holding back from the battle while the Seeker and a giant ass wolf helped them finish off the last of demons. Then Chuckles had dashed forward, grabbed her by her sparking hand, and dragged her towards the rift.

Good news was, she'd closed it, which was a real Maker damned miracle. Bad news was, ever since then she'd been... manic was the nicest word for it. Hopping and jumping, never standing still. Purple lightning crackled across her skin at random intervals, making her markings flare up in brief, unsettling patterns. Her eyes were too large and disturbingly bright, mouth stretched in a too wide grin, all her teeth prominently shown.

If there was one thing Daisy had taught him, it was that Dalish were unsettlingly good at baring their teeth. But Sparky here took it to a whole new level.

“I... do not know.” the Seeker admitted. “She was not like this when she awoke.” Her own worried eyes followed the elf as she tripped over a jutting rock, almost falling down. But the giant ass wolf was immediately at her side to steady her. The elf giggled in mirth as Solas gently steered her forward again. All the while, that giant ass wolf never left her side, uncannily intelligent eyes full of concern for it's mistress. It reminded Varric of Rex after Hawke had pulled another stunt. Except while a mabari was big, this was  _ a giant ass wolf _ . It made the entire picture a little harder to swallow.

That picture was not helped by the elf's apparently newfound insanity. At all.

“But we have no choice, her mark is the only thing that has worked on the rift so far. She is our only hope at fixing this.” The Seeker's statement left a bad taste in his mouth, desperation rising.

So Varric chuckled cheerfully.

“Seems like we have no hope then.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, the quip sounding much too truthful. He was off his game.

But given that there was  _ a hole in the sky _ , he thought he could be forgiven, just this once.

The Seeker clenched her jaw but stayed silent. They watched as the elf stumbled over nothing, too wide eyes gazing up at the sky in wonder, only Solas’ grip on her preventing her from falling.

They were doomed.

To underline that, the damned Breach spat out some more demons, their piercing, unnaturally high shrieks hurting Varric's ears as always.

And in response, the elf cheered, throwing herself into the fray, Dalish grace suddenly reappearing, allowing her to slip out of Solas' grasp. As he aimed Bianca towards the demons, Varric saw Solas quickly cast a barrier over the elf as she jumped into the middle of the group, the four demons now surrounding her. And then she began hopping and jumping all over the place again. Only this time, it was in the midst of a group of demons.

He tried to find a shot, but the elf wouldn't stand still and his fear of hitting her stayed his hand. The Seeker, the giant ass wolf and Chuckles were already racing forward, Chuckles casting another spell, ice beginning to creep up one demon–

The ground  _ exploded _ .

Shielding his eyes on reflex, he immediately lowered his hand the moment he could, blinking back the stars dancing across his vision. 

Varric gaped.

Where there had been four demons, was now only a crater, snow blown away, the ground cracked, purple sparks still snapping at the air. 

And one bat shit crazy elf standing in the middle of it all, laughing like the madwoman she was. Varric tasted the ozone filling the air and shivered.

Hawke had pulled more impressive stunts than this. A few times only, but she had, making the heavens itself rain fire. But she hadn't ever shown such unholy glee, such insane  _ joy _ . Blondie hadn't been this unnerving, even at the very end. And that said it all, now didn't it.

The giant ass wolf reached the elf first, its fur puffed up by aggression. Or maybe by the purple static still flickering across the brand new crater. It pushed itself against the still laughing mad woman, the sound abruptly cut short as the elf fell to her knees and hugged the huge beast tightly, burying her head into its fur. But as Varric got closer, he saw that she was still grinning, eyes unblinking and disturbingly vacant.

Joining the Seeker and Chuckles at the edge of that perfect circle, his chest hair still standing up straight, they watched the elf as she mumbled in her lyrical language, petting the wolf with too quick strokes.

“Shit. Didn't expect that.” he said, just to break the silence.

“Indeed.” the Seeker's voice was tight, sword and shield still held in hand. “She did not display such power before.” And there was wariness on those dark eyes now, a suspicion that had been missing before.

“Possibly it is the result of closing the rift.” The pensive voice made the Seeker snap her head towards Solas, who was watching the unhinged Dalish with contemplative eyes.

“Explain.” the Seeker demanded when it became clear he wouldn't elaborate.

“The magic seen here is unlike anything seen in this age, and your prisoner is at it's center. Who knows what Solas it might have, especially after coming in such close contact as was needed to seal it.” Chuckles never looked away from elf now absently trying to catch the sparks of lightning still littering the air, her markings sharp and feral, reflecting the purple light.

Varric was impressed with how Chuckles managed to ignore the Seeker's glare so completely. He knew how hard that was from personal experience.

The Seeker let out a disgusted noise at the explanation that wasn't an explanation at all, but Varric was focused on something much more important.

“If she reacted like this when closing a small one, what exactly is going to happen when she goes for the big one?” His question made both himself and the Seeker look up towards the Breach, before it immediately forced their eyes away again. Instead, both of them gazed back down at was apparently their last hope.

Their last hope was now fascinated by the shiny glow of her own hand.

“I suppose we will find out soon enough.” Solas stated in a calm voice, as though he was merely commenting on the weather.

Varric  really envied that scruffy elf's blasé attitude towards the probable end of the world.

* * *

 

Ellana (screamed)  _ danced,  _ every song a roaring symphony– humming drumming (burning) she was (dieing) a  _ god! _

Energy,  _ life _ – why had she rejected ( _ it _ ) this power was a (curse) gift!

Buzzing around her, little notes chiming through the air, deep and feral bass, so pretty, her Harellan– 

A touch, a deep well, calm and grand, rushing river, lake, sea, ocean, so _ loud, _ a storm trapped.

“Clouds caging Creation.” Pebbles thrown in the sky, ripples across ( _ it _ ) her soul.

Sounds without meaning, growls and snaps, concern and love– her Harellan (help)

Feet light, sky dancing to the melody of ( _ it _ ) her heart, feeling (brittle breaking  _ burning _ )  _ alive, _ the Beyond in every breath.

She (screamed) was (dieing) a  _ god! _

* * *

 

Codex: Elves In Thedas

The terms “Dalish” and “elf” are often used interchangeably, the rarity of elves outside of the Dales the cause for this misconception. The fact the Dalish often use both words to describe themselves only reinforces this mistake. Yet though all Dalish are elves, not all elves are Dalish.

It is the presence of their facial tattoos, the most widely known aspect of Dalish appearance, which is the easiest way to differentiate between the two people. The Dalish themselves distinction those who do not have them with the term “bare-faced”.

And yet, in every country there live “bare-faced” elves who have never even seen a Dalish Clan, who have never set foot in the Wildling Woods. They are Antivan, Fereldan, Rivaini, Free Marchers, even Orlesian. They exist across all of Thedas, and most do not live any different than any other of the common folk.

It is easy to forget elves were once found across all of Thedas, first as an empire that stretched the known world, then as slaves to human masters. When the land that is now the Dales was first given to all elves, it send out a call many answered. Many, but not all. 

To most, it was a long and perilous journey, made by people who often could not afford even the basest of necessities, who carried nothing but the clothes on their back. Countless perished during The Long Walk, stories of that time still told by the Dalish themselves, a center stone of their history. With such high risks, it is only natural some chose to remain where they were. My own research hints that the number who did would surprise many.

Because the numbers also shown that the population of elves outside the Dales only continues to decline more rapidly every age. 

There are two reasons for this. The first, is that over the ages there have been those who choose to make the journey to the Dales, following the dream their ancestors. The second, and most important one, is that any union between human and elf will result in an “elf-blooded” child. These children will sometimes have a sharpness to the ears, eyes that are just a touch too large, an uncommon grace to their movements. But for the most part, they are indistinguishable from any other human. And as most places do not possess enough elves to form their own community, they marry across species.

The fact such a union produces only human offspring, has made it so that the stigma against such unions has mostly disappeared, though my research has also shown this was not always the case. But in this day and age, most do not have any issues with a union between men and elves.

In the places where non-Dalish elves still live of course.

– Excerpt from “A Study Of Non-Humans Across Andrastian Lands” by brother Gérard, 7:54 Storm

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](https://loekas.tumblr.com/)


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